


Left to Chance

by irishfino



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, McSnurtle the big black dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishfino/pseuds/irishfino
Summary: HR survives on chance. Chance gives him Iris West.





	

                HR isn’t anything special. Even his name isn’t special. HR. Human Resources. A resource. He doesn’t actually have a full name. His first name is H and his middle name is R. His parents’ logic was thus: there were two of them born at the same time, him and his identical twin Harrison, and the doctors said HR was going to die. They hadn’t picked two names, just the one and wanted to pick who was what after they were born and one was going to die so why bother getting attached. It was only when he was older and explained the process to other people that he concluded that this was wrong and oddly cold. He couldn’t joke the chill away.

                Growing up alongside Harrison was a strange experience, according to others. To HR, it was everything. Harrison was smart, always entering science fairs and winning at least third place. He enjoyed it, but he never left HR behind. It would have been easy to do so, yet Harrison loved his slightly younger brother very much. He would break off pieces of his awards and give them to HR. Sometimes, he broke them in half. Sometimes he pried off the little name plaque, scratched out his own name, and etched in “HR, my other half.” He continued to do this until HR won his own awards for his writings. And HR would break pieces from his awards and gift them to Harrison, his other half. When asked why they did this, the answer was simple: he helped, he deserved recognition for his assistance.

                When Harrison married his childhood sweetheart, HR was the best man. When HR was finally published by a big publisher, the book was dedicated to Harrison. When Harrison needed a kidney, HR offered himself up as spare parts, the twin who was never meant to survive. When Harrison cut the ribbon to S.T.A.R. Labs, HR handed him the scissors as he always had for Harrison’s school projects. When Harrison was too busy to make announcements of S.T.A.R. Labs projects, HR was there. HR the hype man.

                To the casual observer, HR was happy. He joked. He was over the top with silliness. He loved holidays and decorating and hyping up people who were otherwise unhyped or a little bit sad that day. He must have a rich inner life, many thought, that HR. Look at his smile, all teeth and sparkling eyes. Surely, they thought, he was the happiest man on the planet. He was not. He was used to the looks, that moment of thinking he was Harrison Wells and not just his brother HR, the man who rode upon coattails. The little “oh” that followed the realization. The apologies. The barely disguised exasperation and derision. They whispered things and yelled them and spoke them in the same room as him. They thought him stupid and unaware, but he was always aware and always hurt. The worst was when Tess, lovely and sweet Tess, lashed out one day over his worries concerning the accelerator. It had been a lifelong project of Tess’ and Harrison’s. Their baby. And you never insult someone’s baby or even hint that it may have defects or could explode and kill everyone. Especially if it was a gut instinct and nothing based in hard science.

                “You don’t have a degree,” she had said. He knew, of course, that he did not have a degree. Not a degree like theirs. He wasn’t a doctor in any form. He was a Bachelor of Arts, an easy degree. “You don’t know how any of this works.” He knew it was dangerous and that was enough.

                He convinced Harrison to build a working model of the accelerator. Harrison did it to both ease HR’s fears and show that it would work properly the first time. It didn’t. It exploded, as HR feared, and sent shrapnel and glass and wires flying. HR shielded Harrison as he often had in their lives and spared his wife the heartache of becoming a widow. He did not spare himself pain.

                The hospital was boring and difficult. When first there, he was checked every fifteen minutes. He could not sleep. The surgery to repair his lung had been long and hard for the surgeons. Now the doctors made sure to have nurses check his vital signs for any indication a clot may have formed. Lack of sleep made him irritable in a way few had ever seen. He was short with Harrison, almost bitterly snapping at the man in those early days of recovery. Harrison would smile and joke they had switched personalities. It wasn’t funny.

                When he was finally released from the hospital, he had orders to attend rehabilitation and a long list of medications to take to ensure he continued to heal properly. His one treasure, unaffected by his long list of annoying pills, was coffee. The baristas were angels, well humanoid angels. Real angels were scary as all hell and HR wanted nothing to do with those fire covered hellbeasts. Yuck.

                He finds solace on a park bench. He can’t run as he used to. His lung isn’t quite there yet and the damn doctors don’t want him exercising outside of his physical therapy. Annoying.

                He’s enjoying a smooth cup of a new roast from Jitters when a dog runs up to him. It’s large and black and drooling. It nuzzles his knee with its nose. It wants pets. He can give it pets. He scritches the top of its head and finds himself smiling a real smile for the first time today. Pets are nice.

                “McSnurtle!” he hears a woman shout.

                The dog’s ears perk up, its tongue lolls out of its mouth. Must be the owner, HR thinks. She runs up and grabs for the dog’s collar.

                “Silly girl out of your leash,” she says. “Sorry.”

                She re-clasps the red leash and HR looks up. He’s blinded by the sun for a few moments before realizing she is the sun. Her skin glows and her smile beams. She’s beautiful.

                “Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he says. “I love dogs.”

                “Thanks for keeping her attention,” she says. She looks at him closer. “Wait, you look familiar.”

                “I’m not Harrison Wells,” he says. It’s automatic. An attempt to stop disappointment.

                “No, no. I’ve seen your face on a dustcover of a book I read. You – you’re HR Wells! Oh, my god. Hi!”

                She thrusts her hand out and he takes it with renewed vigor.

                “Which book was it?”

                “Which book wasn’t it? I’ve read all your books. Your heroines are _amazing_. I can relate to them so easily and they’re so badass while still being human. I love it! I love them. I – you wanna get a coffee and hear a fan gush over your work?”

                “I love coffee, but I’d rather hear about you.”

                Her face must feel very warm now.

                “I’m Iris,” she says.

                “HR.”

                “I know.”

                Coffee suddenly has a new, better taste.


End file.
